


Le Long de la Route

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Bridget is introduced in season one, F/F, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2018-12-24 18:59:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12019011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: “And what if someone were to visit you?”Vera laughed: “No-one ever wants to visit.”“I would.”





	1. Chapter 1

_ Les images, les querelles _

_ Du passé rancunier _

_ Ont forgé nos armures _

_ Nos cœurs se sont scellés _

_ ~ Le Long de la Route, Zaz _

 

Vera hid her face in her hands as the silent tears fell down her cheeks. The concrete steps and brick walls of the stairwell did little to comfort her, but at least they supported her frail figure as embarrassment and agony swept over her being. Suddenly she registered a body taking a seat beside her. Peeking through her fingers, she could see a pair of stockinged feet and slim legs positioned next to hers, the toenails decorated by a pristine navy coat of polish visible through the nylon. That could only be one person: Bridget Westfall, the newly appointed forensic psychologist who’d only been there for about a month. Great, that was just what she needed, a shrink to analyse her right now. 

 

However, all Bridget did was wrap an arm around Vera’s shoulders and hold her. The deputy looked up at her, a surprised look on her face.

“I figured you might need a friendly face,” Bridget explained with a soft shrug. Wiping furiously at her wet eyes and cheeks, Vera managed a mumbled: “Thank you.” After a few moments of silence, Bridget suddenly said: “You know, I had a fake boyfriend in uni.”

“Did you?” Vera could hardly believe that. Bridget was such a beautiful, confident woman, unlike her. The psychologist hummed softly. 

“Yes. Tim. I felt uncomfortable when guys asked me out, so I made him up to not have to deal with that. It all came out when my brother came over for my birthday and someone asked where Tim was, and he asked: ‘Who’s Tim?’ Then when they said it was my boyfriend, he began laughing. Everybody suddenly realised why they’d never seen him.” She cringed as she recounted the story. “So if it’s any consolation, I know how it feels,” the blonde added, chuckling. Vera giggled. It was laughable, wasn’t it? A grown woman pretending to have a boyfriend.

 

“Vera?” Bridget suddenly asked. “Why did you make Adam up?” The brunette felt the shame fall over her like a heavy veil again. Sighing, she admitted: “The real reason I can never go out with everyone is that I still live at my mother’s, and she gets upset and vicious when I do.” Bridget nodded silently.

“And what if someone were to visit?” Vera laughed.

“No-one ever wants to visit.”

“I would.” The deputy looked at the blonde with large eyes. “Tonight work for you?” the psychologist added to her statement. Vera nodded with her mouth slightly agape. Chuckling, Bridget told her: “Text me your address later.” She winked at Vera before getting up, slipping her heels back on and exiting the stairwell. Vera was left sitting in a near shock until her radio brought her out of it. She was going to have a visitor over tonight! A friend, even?

 

That evening, Vera found herself standing in front of her wardrobe in her underwear. What did one wear when someone was coming over? She had told her mother a friend would be visiting them tonight, but Rita Bennett had only huffed: “A friend of yours? What’s wrong with them?” Vera sighed, and chose an emerald green top. She was positively nervous about Bridget meeting er mum, and not because of Bridget. Out of all the people who worked at Wentworth, the blonde forensic psychologist was the most eloquent and put-together. One could consider Erica Davidson, perhaps, but the woman was a lot colder than the gentle Miss Westfall, and after the way in which she had managed to screw Vera over on her quest for governorship, Vera couldn’t picture ever allowing her to take even a single step into her home unless forced by authorities.

 

Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, working on a cross-stitch project, when Vera exited her room. She was greeted with a disinterested huff while Rita stabbed the blunt needle through the aida cloth with what seemed to be a lot more force than necessary. Shaking her head, Vera walked into the living room and glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past seven. The brunette grabbed her phone out of her pocket, unlocking the device to check that Bridget was indeed still coming over. The texts filled the screen. Bridget texted in full, grammatically correct sentences. Vera appreciated that. She only used more emoticons than Vera did - the deputy had never really gotten the hang of those.

 

_ Vera Bennett shared a location: “Home”. _

_ Bridget W.: Thanks, Vera! Would 7:30 be okay tonight? _

_ Vera Bennett: That should work, yes. _

_ Bridget W.: Perfect! :) I’ll see you then, and I’ll bring wine. ;) _

 

Vera switched on the TV to a music channel while she waited, nearly unable to sit still. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had willingly come to her home. Before she knew it, a gentle knock at the door signalled the arrival of her guest. She walked over to the entryway and swung it open. Immediately she felt underdressed. Bridget was wearing a light grey dress - chiffon, Vera realised - along with a soft white wrap. Her hair was down in loose waves. The woman was stunning, damn it. 

“Uh, hi, come in,” Vera stammered, stepping aside to let the forensic psychologist enter the small home.

“It’s lovely, Vera,” Bridget remarked as she stepped into the living room. “I love the flowers,” she commented, pointing at the vase of fresh flowers.

“They’re from our garden.” Vera winced at the harsh sound of her mother’s voice piercing the air. Sighing softly, she introduced the two women: “Mum, this is Bridget Westfall. Bridget, my mum.” Smiling, the blonde walked over to the chagrined woman standing in the kitchen doorway and shook her hand.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Bennett. The tulips are absolutely beautiful.” Rita acknowledged the compliment with a huff, and muttered: “I’ll be in my room.” Turning back around to face Vera, Bridget pulled a bottle of cabernet sauvignon out of her bag. 

“As promised!” she announced with a wink.

 

A short while later, both women were seated on the sofa. Vera sat up straight, a remnant of Holy Eucharist Primary School. On the other end of the couch, Bridget was leaning against the armrest. Her shoulders were relaxed, and she had kicked off her charcoal heels to fold her legs underneath her body. They were watching a movie on the television, though the nervous deputy found it difficult to focus on the actual storyline. She kept glancing to her side to make sure everything was alright. Looking again, her eyes suddenly locked onto bright blue ones.

“Vera, relax,” the blonde told her, her voice soft and calm. “I’m here because I want to be here.” The psychologist’s slim hand landed on the worn fabric of the sofa between them, her palm turned upwards. Vera took the offered sign of vulnerability, threading their fingers. She felt the blonde gently squeeze her hand, and took a deep breath. She could believe the woman, couldn’t she?


	2. Chapter 2

The last thing Vera remembered was Bridget commenting on how cliché the storyline of the movie was. The next thing she knew, she was getting woken up by her mother tapping her forehead, a finger raised to her lips.

“I’m trying to sleep and your movie is loud,” the elder Bennett woman hissed. “And you may want to offer your friend a place to sleep, if I’ve taught you any manners.” Rita angrily switched off the TV before stomping back towards her room and slamming the door shut. Only now was she becoming aware of a weight against her shoulder Looking to her right, she saw that Bridget had fallen asleep with her upper body resting against Vera’s. The blonde was breathing evenly and her dress had ridden up halfway up her thighs, revealing slightly-tanned skin - a lot of slightly-tanned skin. What was she supposed to do? Should she wake her up? The psychologist looked so peaceful. 

Before she could decide, a loud clap of thunder outside made the decision for her. Bridget bolted awake, seemingly unaware that she had been using Vera as a pillow. The brunette in question quickly scooted aside, effectively removing all evidence of the accidental intimacy. Bridget didn’t need to know. She didn’t want her to feel embarrassed - she wanted her to return sometime after all. Oh, gosh, she was thinking about Bridget coming back again when the evening wasn’t even over yet! She mused she should probably not get her hopes up. She didn’t want to get hurt, again. Vera nervously ran a hand through her hand as she hesitantly commented: “I think we both fell asleep.” Bridget chuckled in response.

“I guess the movie wasn’t that interesting, huh?” She smiled at the deputy governor. 

“Yeah, I guess not.” Vera inwardly smacked herself in the face. Couldn’t she have come up with a better response? Clearing her throat, she asked: “If you want, you could stay the night?” Bridget’s face immediately turned apologetic. Shit, see, she hadn’t enjoyed herself at all, and now she would never want to hang out again and everything at work would be awkward and… Vera’s thoughts were interrupted by Bridget’s fingertips touching the back of her hand.

“Honestly, it sounds very attractive to not have to drive home,” the blonde explained, “but I promised my father I’d take him grocery shopping early tomorrow morning, so I really should get home. But...next time, maybe?” Oh. Yeah. Okay. That would work.

“Sure,” Vera replied, trying to sound laid-back. “I’ll show you out, then?”

 

The next couple of weeks at work went by without either woman ever mentioning their movie night, and Vera was convinced that Bridget had only offered the option of a second time out of politeness, or possibly even because she felt sorry for Vera. She found herself in the supermarket on a Saturday morning, buying some frozen dinners for herself. Her mother was gone; she was attending a cross-stitching retreat for the weekend and wouldn’t be back until Wednesday, and Vera was feeling a definite sense of freedom. Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her pocket, and Bridget’s work ID photo flashed next to a notification that read: ‘One new message’. Vera quickly unlocked the screen and checked her inbox.

 

_ Bridget W.: Hey Vera, I was wondering whether you’d like to get some drinks tonight? _

 

Vera hesitated. She wasn’t much of a going-out-for-drinks person, was she? Her screen flashed again.

 

_ Bridget W.: By which I mean wine in my living room. With my cat. And bad TV. _

 

She giggled to herself while standing in front of the dairy. 

 

_ Vera Bennett: I’d love to.  _

_ Bridget W.: Does 6.30 work for you? I’ll make dinner. Do you like lasagne?  _

_ Vera Bennett: Yes, that sounds good.  _

_ Vera Bennett: To both of your questions. _

_ Bridget W.: Perfect, I’ll see you then! _

_ Bridget W. shared a location: “Bridget’s House”. _

 

Gosh, now Vera needed to bring something, didn’t she? It felt impolite to show up at Bridget’s house without a gift. The psychologist invited her, and didn’t you bring something for your host when you were their guest? 

 

That evening, Vera pulled up to Bridget’s home. It was a decent-sized bungalow-type house, very different from her own childhood home - though Vera doubted that Bridget still lived with her parents. She was holding her newly-bought present in her hands as she walked up to the front door: a few candles on a wooden tray. At second thought, she wasn’t too sure about the items now. She didn’t have the faintest idea what Bridget’s decoration looked like. Would it even fit? Would she like the gesture? Before she could panic and bolt out of there, the door swung open, revealing Bridget in a much more casual outfit than she had ever seen her: tight-fitted jeans and a navy sweater. 

“I thought I heard a car!” the blonde exclaimed. “Come on in!” She stepped aside to allow Vera into the home. Looking around, the deputy realised that Bridget must love colour - it was everywhere. She held up her candles in front of her body.

“I, uh, brought you something.” The psychologist rewarded her with a bright smile. 

“Thank you, they’re lovely!”

 

Vera hadn’t had such a laid-back and happy dinner in a long time. Bridget was a decent cook, and they had talked and laughed while they finished the food. She felt truly at ease as they relaxed on her sofa with a glass of wine. Bridget’s cat - an elderly gentleman by the name of Fred - was snoring softly between them. The blonde had put on a reality show. Vera had never watched anything like it, but her host seemed to enjoy it, and it sure was different from what she viewed normally. The hours went by so quickly that the brunette found herself beginning to yawn before she knew it, the slight buzz of the alcohol having its effect on her tired body. 

“If you’d like, you could stay over,” Bridget suggested while visibly suppressing a yawn herself. Vera shook her head and protested: “I really don't want to impose.”

“Not at all!” the blonde psychologist countered, adding: “I have a guest bedroom; it wouldn't be any trouble at all. And to be honest, I would prefer not to send you driving home after the wine we've just had.” Bridget had a point, didn't she? And Mum wasn't home anyway, so the company in the morning would be nice. Nodding, Vera gave in: “Alright.” 

“Great! I'll give you the tour, then.”

 

After Bridget had pointed out the bathroom and the door to the master bedroom with a tipsy giggle, she had left Vera in the bathroom with a spare toothbrush while she went to switch off the lights in the living room. Now, they were standing in the guest bedroom, Bridget holding out one of her T-shirts and shorts for Vera to wear to bed. The room itself was decorated like the rest of the house. The colour scheme for this particular room seemed to be deep red and pastel pink, the sheets on the bed a beautiful burgundy not unlike the wine that was influencing them both. 

“If you're all set, I'll leave you be,” the blonde told her, handing her the garment. 

“I've got everything I need. Thank you.” Vera was genuinely grateful for her hospitality.

“Alright then.” Bridget suddenly bent towards her. What was she..? The brunette panicked and turned her face, causing the psychologist’s kiss goodnight to miss on their intended target - Vera’s cheek - and to touch her lips instead, her hand shooting out towards the deputy’s hip to help stabilise her instinctively. Vera gasped softly as Bridget kissed her tenderly, seemingly unfazed by the change of plans. Butterflies fluttered through her belly at the feeling of the blonde against her. Bridget smelled of amber and vanilla, with just a hint of strawberries. The psychologist broke the kiss with a shy smile, and whispered: “Goodnight, Vera.” Before Vera could really register what just had happened, Bridget had walked out of the room and entered her own, closing the door behind her. The deputy was left standing next to the bed, dumbstruck and slightly intoxicated, mumbling to herself: “Sweet dreams.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Vera woke with a smile on her face. She could still smell the scent that seemed to be so typically Bridget in the sheets, and if she wasn’t mistaken, she could still taste her on her lips.  _ Heavens _ , what was she doing? Bridget was her colleague; she was a respected forensic psychologist with more credits to her name than Vera could ever dream of. There were so many reasons why they would never work out, the main one being that Bridget was so far out of Vera’s league that they needed the Hubble telescope to be able to see the distance. Sighing softly, she got up from the safe warmth of the bedding, immediately making sure the sheets were neatly folded back towards the foot of the bed. 

The smell of fresh coffee gently tugged her towards the kitchen, where she found Bridget softly humming to herself while she scrolled through what seemed to be news articles on her tablet. The cat was lounging in the morning sun, rolling onto his back on the hardwood floor. It was a sweet sight. Did all of Bridget’s days off start like this? Vera wondered. As she took another step forward, a floorboard creaked under her foot and the blonde’s head shot up. Blue eyes connected with hers, and the psychologist smiled gently.

“Morning. There are coffee and toast on the countertop over there,” she greeted her guest, placing the device on the coffee table. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Lovely, thank you for your hospitality,” Vera replied, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice, though a slight tremor slipped through. She quickly padded over to the offered breakfast and poured herself a cup of the dark liquid. When she turned around to face Bridget, she hesitated. Where would she sit? To her relief, the blonde scooted over to offer her a spot on the sofa, which she gratefully accepted. They nursed their coffees in a comfortable silence, until the psychologist broke it.

“I had a wonderful time last night,” she commented, holding her coffee cup with two hands. “But I…” She sighed softly. “I wanted to apologise. I feel like I may have overstepped a boundary when I…” Was Bridget Westfall really feeling as awkward as Vera was? Was that even possible? The brunette gathered all of the courage she could find, and responded: “You don’t need to apologise,” her voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mind.”

“Oh.” Bridget stared at the floor for a short while before asking: “Then...would you like doing it again? Now that we are both less intoxicated?” Blushing, Vera nodded. Bridget carefully took her by-now empty mug from her and set it on the coffee table. As she did so, the deputy instinctively decreased the distance between their bodies, their outer thighs colliding. With a soft chuckle, the blonde raised her left hand to Vera’s cheek and moved until her lips were only millimetres away from the other woman’s. Her eyes fluttering closed, the brunette closed the distance, immediately relaxing against her. The psychologist tasted of coffee and raspberry preserves. Suddenly, Vera’s nerves caught up with her again. What was she doing? This wasn’t the kind of life she had - kissing beautiful women at breakfast after staying over. Oh, God, and a woman, at that! Mum would skin her alive if she found out. She broke the kiss and muttered: “I should go.” Before Bridget got the chance to say anything, Vera had managed to change into her clothing from the night before and rush out of the home, leaving the blonde standing in the kitchen, wondering what had just happened.

 

Vera spent the next three days avoiding Bridget at all costs. She worked night shifts only, and made sure her car was never parked near the psychologist’s. On the evening of the fourth day, her phone vibrated in her pocket while she was taking a walk at the beach, and without thinking, she unlocked the screen, causing her messaging profile to show as ‘online’. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart began racing when she realised who had messaged her.

 

_ Bridget W.: Hey Vera, I was just wondering if you were okay. I’ve been worried about you. Xx Bridget. _

 

Double kisses? And she even sounded friendly, and genuinely concerned, instead of angry and upset like she had respected. Taking a deep breath, she typed a response. Hitting send, she waited for the blonde’s answer.

 

_ Vera Bennett: I think I just needed some time to process. I’m sorry for leaving all of a sudden like I did.  _

_ Bridget W.: No worries! I understand. _

 

This time, no kisses. Had she messed up? Vera attempted to gather courage as the sun slowly set at the horizon.

 

_ Vera Bennett: Would it be alright if I came over? _

_ Bridget W.: Turn around. X _

 

Confused, Vera spun 180 degrees. She let out a soft laugh. There, in the distance, stood Bridget and an older man. Nervously, she walked towards them. The psychologist kissed her cheek when she reached her, and introduced her to the gentleman: “Vera, this is my father Robert. Dad, this is Vera Bennett.” The man smiled gently, his nose wrinkling in the way her daughter’s could as well. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennett.”

“Likewise, Mister Westfall,” Vera responded. Father and daughter seemed extremely similar. 

“We were just heading back,” the blonde explained, “but if you’d like you could come over after I drop Dad off?” The Deputy nodded. That sounded reasonable.

 

Vera had waited anxiously in her car while Bridget took her father home, until she received a text telling her she had arrived home. She had some time to think about her feelings for the woman. The way the butterflies in her abdomen had started fluttering when she saw the message alert blinking on her screen was telling enough, wasn’t it? Woman or not...she figured this was what having a crush, a real crush, felt like. The brunette quickly made her way to the psychologist’s home. She walked up to the door and knocked on the wood. When Bridget opened it, the blonde smiled gently at her.

“Thank you for coming,” she began, but Vera shook her head. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” the brunette responded, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her. “Nothing’s wrong.” She tenderly pressed her lips against Bridget’s, letting the other woman take over the lead naturally. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* I love this pairing a lot. :)


	4. Chapter 4

The next following weeks the women decided to take it slow. Vera wasn’t ready for anything rash, and Bridget didn’t mind the slow pace. The psychologist had visited Vera at her mother’s a few times, but Vera had spent the night at Bridget’s more often. She preferred to have the freedom to do what they felt like without the judging and stabbing gazes of her mother. Rita hadn’t figured out what was going on just yet; or, if she had, she wasn’t saying anything. The Deputy preferred to keep it that way, just for now.

 

Vera found herself at the blonde’s once again, on the sofa after having had dinner together. The television was showing a mediocre romance movie that neither woman was really watching, if they were completely honest. They were curled up together, with her head resting on the psychologist’s shoulder. The screen flashed in bright colours; a commercial break had started again.

“Have you been paying any attention?” Bridget whispered while she drew patterns on the back of Vera’s hand. The brunette giggled and softly responded: “Not really.” She could feel the vibrations of the psychologist’s chuckle travel through her body. The other woman raised her hand to Vera’s cheek and tenderly placed a kiss on her lips, murmuring: “You’re much more interesting than that movie anyway.” The Deputy let her jaw relax, granting the blonde’s tongue access to her own. She was convinced she would never get tired of kissing her and being kissed by her.

 

Vera’s breath hitched in her throat when she felt Bridget's left hand gently palm her breast through her top. She tensed up immediately. 

“Vera, are you okay?” the psychologist asked, placing her hand on the brunette’s hip instead.

“I…” she began. Hiding her face in shame, Vera admitted: “I've never been intimate with anyone.” She prayed the ground would swallow her whole. Here she was, a healthy woman in her forties, and she was still a clueless virgin. Bridget must think she was pathetic; childish and boring. She felt two fingers against her chin, carefully lifting her head.

“We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with.” Bridget locked her blue eyes onto nervous grey ones. 

“I want to,” Vera whispered, “but I'm not sure what to do.” The blonde smiled. 

“Would you like to go to my bedroom and then we'll see what happens?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle. The deputy nodded. 

 

Bridget took her hand and guided her through the hallway, past the guest room that Vera had become accustomed to staying in. They reached the door at the end of the corridor, but before she opened it, the psychologist laid a hand on the handle and looked at Vera.

“Tell me to stop at any time and I will, no questions asked, and no hurt feelings. Will you promise me you will?” Once again the brunette wanted to convey her agreement with a nod, but the blonde shook her head. “I need to hear it.”

“I promise.” With a tender kiss on Vera's lips, Bridget’s hand pushed the door open, revealing a spacious bedroom. The colour scheme was a gentle pastel one, unlike the bright, flashy colours of the rest of the home. A queen-sized bed stood in the middle, covered by rayon sheets in a soft blue, along with throw pillows in a delicate flower pattern. Sheer white curtains covered the tall windows, slightly obscuring the view of the backyard. After switching on two small dimmed lamps on the bedside tables, Bridget walked over to the lace curtains and pulled the heavy navy drapes, shielding them both from the outside world. She stood in front of her bed, beckoning the brunette to come closer. Vera took a tentative step into the room. Feeling vulnerable, she quickly walked over to Bridget until she was safely in the blonde’s arms again. She smelled of waterlilies and sandalwood. 

“Hello,” Bridget greeted her, chuckling softly at the woman rushing into her embrace. She gently pulled on Vera's elbow, sitting them both down on the bed. “May I take this off?” the psychologist asked, tugging on the ochre cardigan covering Vera’s arms and shoulders. After nodded permission, nimble fingers slipped it off of her, leaving her in just the white lace top and cream-coloured skirt she had arrived in. Bridget folded the reddish-brown fabric carefully before laying it on top of a chest at the foot of the bed. Smiling, she moved towards Vera to meet her lips in a kiss. Vera’s head felt like the world was spinning. Instinctively, she raised her hands to Bridget’s indigo dress, taking hold of the invisible zipper. With a nod of encouragement from the blonde, she pulled it down, exposing the soft skin of her sun-kissed shoulders and back. Bridget stood up and let the garment fall to the floor, leaving her standing in just her underwear. Satin and lace contoured her curves and emphasised her slim waist. She was beautiful.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, bending to kiss Vera’s cheek. The brunette nodded. She felt almost surprised at how relaxed she felt.

“Yeah. I am.” The psychologist gave her a bright smile, and raised her hands to the buttons of Vera’s top. The Deputy nodded once more. “Go ahead.” Bridget slowly undid the first button, continuing downward and revealing Vera’s cotton, pastel-pink-coloured bra. Once her top had joined her cardigan on the chest, the blonde murmured: “You’re so gorgeous.” She gently guided the brunette to lie back onto the bed, caressing her cheek. “Still okay?”

Vera nodded. She was more than okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I really stop there?
> 
> Yes, I really did. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change.

Bridget smiled down at Vera with a gentleness in her features that made all fear and trepidation leave her body. The room was warm, and the sheets beneath the surface of her bare back were soft to the touch. The psychologist’s fingertips trailed across her upper body, lightly tapping her sensitive skin. Small goosebumps appeared on her abdomen, yet Bridget’s lips warmed her skin before she could register the shiver running through her being. Blonde hair tickled her breasts, still confined in her bra, which by now felt tight. She wanted it off. Vera sat up and raised her hands to the hooks keeping it in place, but the other woman’s delicate touch stopped her.

“Let me?” Bridget asked, and Vera could do nothing but nod. Within seconds the restriction of her chest was gone, and she felt like she could finally breathe again. “You’re so beautiful,” Bridget complimented her, gazing at her like she was some sort of work of art in a gallery, brought into existence to inspire awe. Vera couldn’t hold back a chuckle at her own ridiculous comparison, causing the psychologist to look at her with amused confusion gracing her features.

“I’m sorry,” Vera apologised, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes as her laughter increased in intensity. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into me.” Bridget only chuckled in response and kissed her jaw. 

“Don’t be,” the blonde added. “I just want you to feel comfortable.” The Deputy nodded, kissing Bridget properly.

“I am comfortable. More than.”

“Good.”

 

Suddenly, Vera felt Bridget’s hands at the waistband of her skirt. She nodded at the blonde, raising her hips to aid her in sliding the cotton down her legs, leaving her in just her panties. 

“I suppose I should make this even, hey?” Bridget commented, reaching behind herself to remove her own bra. Vera couldn’t help but stare. The woman’s breasts were small but seemed firm, and before she knew it, she was reaching out with her right hand to graze the sides of the psychologist’s chest. She could feel the ridges of faded stretch marks beneath her fingertips. The blonde didn’t seem to be bothered by it. Bridget’s skin wasn’t free of marks and scars, but they didn’t lessen her beauty. Realising how little clothing they were wearing, Vera suddenly felt exposed.

“Could we get under the covers?” she asked softly, her eyes cast downward. 

“Of course,” Bridget responded, settling alongside the brunette and covering the both of them with the silky bedding. “Still okay?” Vera took a deep breath before replying: “Yeah.”

“We don’t  _ have  _ to do anything,” the blonde told her, raising a hand to caress the Deputy’s cheek. Nodding, Vera whispered: “But what if I want to?” Bridget smiled.

“Then we can.” 

 

Vera’s eyes fluttered closed as Bridget let her fingers explore her skin again, her breath hitching in her throat when she reached her underwear. 

“Breathe, beautiful,” was the gentle reassurance she heard whispered into her ear while the blonde’s fingers crept lower, until Bridget cupped her centre with soft pressure. Vera instinctively let her legs fall open, and the psychologist pressed her body flush against hers as she parted her folds, eliciting a soft gasp from Vera. She could feel her mind quickly getting flooded with the sensations of Bridget touching her most intimate spots, but she didn’t fear the loss of control. She realised: she trusted her. She trusted her to take care of her tonight; to keep her safe. Bridget’s fingertips touched her clit, and the brunette’s hands shot out to grasp her upper arm and the sheets, looking for a way to anchor herself. She could feel the blonde smiling against her cheek as she circled the sensitive flesh, sending electric currents through Vera’s nervous system at the speed of light.

“That’s it, beautiful, just feel,” she soothed, placing a delicate kiss on the Deputy’s parted lips. Vera felt the tension in her lower belly build, coiling until she thought she couldn’t take any more of the stimulation. 

“I’ve got you,” Bridget whispered, sucking lightly on the tender skin right behind her ear. “You can let go.” With a few more strokes of her fingers, Vera suddenly felt her abdominal muscles clenching before sheer pleasure flooded her senses. A guttural moan escaped her throat and she curled up into Bridget’s arms. The psychologist held her close, gently caressing her back as she rode through her orgasm. 

 

Once Vera’s breath had returned to normal and her insides weren’t fluttering as much anymore, she opened her eyes to see Bridget smiling at her.

“You are amazing,” she told the brunette, who blushed at the compliment. “How are you feeling?”

“Wonderful,” Vera replied truthfully, with a slight giggle. She felt happy and content, and almost sleepy. Most of all, though, she wanted to make the blonde feel just like she did. “I…” she began, but paused. How did you tell a woman you wanted to make love to her? She didn’t deem it likely that you would just begin out of the blue, without a warning beforehand. Bridget looked at her with a curious smile. 

“What is it?” she asked, kissing Vera’s nose. 

“I would really like to touch you,” the Deputy admitted shyly. The psychologist beamed at her and turned onto her back, her arms folded behind her head.

“Then please, do.” 

 

Vera bit her lip nervously before turning to face her, her hands travelling down her body. Bridget’s chest expanded with every breath she took, and she bent her head to press a kiss on the top of her breast, earning her a sharp intake of breath. She looked up at the blonde to see her reaction, who bashfully clarified: “Sensitive.”

“Is it uncomfortable?” Vera asked.

“God no,” Bridget replied with a chuckle. “I’m just not going to last very long if you keep doing that.” Smiling, the brunette nodded in understanding. Leaving the soft skin of her chest, for now, she grazed her clavicle with her lips instead while her hand crept down the psychologist’s body until she reached a lacy barrier. Bridget raised her hips without being prompted, allowing her to slide the garment down her slim legs. Vera couldn’t help but gasp when her fingertips finally came into contact with her lower lips. She had imagined what it would feel like more than once over the past weeks, but her fantasies had nothing on the real thing; the soft, swollen flesh beneath her fingertips was coated in a thin layer of wetness, and warmth was radiating from Bridget’s centre.

“I want to be inside you.” It took Vera a second to realise that she had just been the one to admit her desire to the blonde squirming beneath her touch. Bridget moaned softly and nodded, spreading her legs ever so slightly. The brunette pushed her index finger between her folds, entering her slowly. The stimulation earned her a low gasp from Bridget, whose hands were now gripping the pillowcase beneath her head. Vera began moving her finger slowly, nearly leaving Bridget’s warmth before re-entering her. 

“Fuck, yes,” came the gasped encouragement. Emboldened by the psychologist’s reaction and her soft cooing, the Deputy attached her lips to her breast once more, letting her tongue touch her nipple. “Jesus!” Bridget cried out. Vera’s thumb swiped across the blonde’s clit once, twice, and suddenly the woman cried out in a choked moan, her muscles spasming as she held onto the brunette. Vera watched in admiration as she rode it out. After what seemed to be minutes, Bridget gazed up at her with a bright smile, the blue of her eyes glazed with emotion.

 

“Are you okay?” Vera asked concernedly. Bridget nodded and took the brunette in her arms, holding her close as sleep began to overtake them both.

“More than okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

A loud electronic sound pierced Vera’s ears. Groaning softly, she opened her eyes, her half-slumbering brain trying to figure out where it was coming from through a sleepy fog. Suddenly she realised there was someone in the bed with her. A warm, unclothed body moved against hers and blonde hair tickled her face.

“Fuck.” The soft mutter was gentle but firm. Bridget rolled over and grabbed her phone. “Westfall.” Vera couldn’t make out what the person on the other end of the line was saying, but it sounded urgent. Gazing at the clock on the wall, she realised it was six in the morning.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. Give me twenty minutes.” As the blonde hung up, Vera reached out to brush her hair from her face, tucking some loose strands behind her ear. Bridget smiled at the soft gesture, then her expression turned apologetic.

“I have to go,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” Sighing deeply, she got up from the tangle of sheets and warm limbs and moved towards her wardrobe. When the doors slid open, rows of blouses, skirts, blazers and dresses were revealed, neatly hanging from wooden hangers. Bridget arched her back, stretching, and quickly grabbed underwear and a bra from hanging wire baskets. She got dressed with the efficiency of someone who knew exactly what was located where. Vera was unsure of what to do. Would she get up as well, get dressed? She wasn’t exactly an expert on what was the appropriate behaviour when the woman one had made love to the previous night and with whom one had been snuggling, asleep, for the rest of the aforementioned night, suddenly had to leave. She sat up, covering her nude body with the sky blue sheets. Apparently sensing her unease, Bridget smiled gently at her.

“Feel free to stay, have a shower or a bath, just please lock the door behind you when you leave; there’s a spare key in my jewellery box.” Vera nodded gratefully. With practised ease, Bridget swiftly fixed her makeup and hair, before turning back towards the brunette in the bed. “Do I look alright?”

“Beautiful,” Vera admitted honestly, feeling her cheeks increase in temperature. The blonde took a deep breath with closed eyes, after which she bent to kiss Vera’s cheek. 

“I wish I could stay,” she whispered softly against warm skin. The Deputy raised her hands to rest on Bridget’s hips. She really wanted to thread her fingers through her golden locks, but she was too afraid to disturb the delicate French twist Bridget had created. Bridget smiled, and kissed her lips. “Text me?” Vera nodded. “Rest a little longer, beautiful.” With that, she left.

 

When Vera opened her eyes again, the clock read half past eight. That was a more acceptable time to get out of bed at on a Saturday morning. She took a moment to bask in the scent of Bridget’s perfume that seemed to be embedded in everything she touched. After a couple of seconds, she suddenly realised she was still in someone else’s home, and she had better get dressed quickly in case someone were to enter. After all, she had no idea who had keys of Bridget’s house. She got up from the warmth of the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom, marvelling at the sleek design in soft grey hues, complemented by neatly stacked pastel pink and cream towels. The psychologist clearly put a lot of effort - and money - into her interior decorating. She stepped under the warm stream of the shower, washing her body with something that smelled of magnolia and vanilla. Drying off quickly, she changed into her clothing from the night before, grabbing some underwear from the dresser in the guest bedroom - after so many sleepovers, she had begun leaving some clothing at Bridget’s. Vera made her way to the kitchen and fixed herself a quick cup of coffee. She’d pick up some breakfast en route to her own place. 

 

When Vera had fed Bridget’s cat, she checked her phone. The notifications at the top told her: ‘Three new messages’. Pressing down, she read them, all from Bridget. 

 

_ [06:17] Bridget W.: Rest well, beautiful. X _

_ [06:28] Bridget W.: I really wanted to stay. _

_ [07:52] Bridget W.: Don’t wait for me; I won’t be home until at least after dinner tonight. X _

 

Vera quickly typed a response.

 

_ Vera Bennett: Don’t worry about it. I’m leaving for home now. Let me know if I can do anything for you. _

  
She hesitated for a moment before adding ‘Xx’ at the end. Smiling at her own message, she walked into Bridget’s bedroom once more to find the box the psychologist had mentioned. She found it on her dresser, a delicate wooden box engraved with line art resembling peonies. Opening it, the inside revealed a small collection of necklaces and earrings. If she was completely honest, Vera had expected a more extensive assortment, but then again, Bridget seemed to only ever wear two different necklaces. The key was tucked into a pouch on the inside of the lid. Grabbing it, Vera’s attention was suddenly caught by a fragile-looking ring, hidden beneath the other bijoux. She picked it up, twirling the yellow gold band between her fingers. Inspecting it closer, she noticed it was engraved. The brunette lifted it to her face so she could read the text, and gasped when she did. It read:  _ Julianne. Forever yours, B _ . She let the ring fall onto the top of the dresser, and exited the house. She considered sending Bridget another text to ask who Julianne was, but decided against it. The blonde not having shared it with her yet likely meant she wasn’t meant to find out. She locked the door behind her, and drove off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also working on my Fridget fics, but I just love this pairing so much!

Vera tried to avoid Bridget as well as she could the following weeks. She took on as many night and weekend shifts as she could, and even volunteered to cover blocks other than H. Erica - Governor Davidson - didn’t question her shift choices. She was just happy someone was willing to take them at all. Bridget stopped calling her after two days. The texts stopped after a week. The awful feeling in the pit of her stomach took nearly a month to go away. 

 

Bridget seemed to be doing okay, as far as Vera could tell. The psychologist still worked at Wentworth, Mondays through Fridays. She saw her get into her car sometimes, leaving just as Vera arrived, or the other way around. She could swear the blonde seemed thinner, but it was probably just her imagination playing tricks on her. For the most part, though, everything had returned to normal. It was the way it had always been: Vera went to work, then she came home, had breakfast with her mum, and they spoke approximately twenty words to each other during the rest of their time together. 

 

On a cold Saturday morning, while they were sitting in the living room, her mother suddenly announced: “I need you to take me to the shops today. I need to get my newest finish framed.” Even though Vera knew better than to argue with her mum, she still tried to convince her otherwise: “I could just take it to the framer’s for you? Spare you the trip?” Rita shook her head.

“I need to show them how to do it; you know that.” That much was true. That also meant that it wouldn’t be any quick trip to the craftsman, no, her mother was going to take at least an hour to point out every single stitch in her newest cross stitch project. Vera suppressed a sigh.

“Okay. I’ll hang the laundry outside and then we’ll go.”

 

As they entered the crafting shop, the scent of wood and wool overwhelmed Vera’s senses. The walls of the store were lined with rows and rows of cross-stitch kits, needlepoint, ribbons, crocheting and knitting needles, and anything else a hobbyist might need. The grey-haired owner immediately walked over to them, greeting them: “Ladies Bennett! What can I do for you today?” He drew them both in for a hug. Vera immediately tensed up. She didn’t like it when people just assumed one was okay with touching them. Her mother put on the mask she had always used in public, and reciprocated with a broad smile.

“Orson! I need something framed.” With a wink, Orson led Rita over to a work table. Vera let out a gentle sigh and took a seat on a wooden stool. She pulled a book out of her handbag and flipped it open. They’d be there for a while. The young girl working the register approached her and asked: “Would you like a cuppa?” Nodding gratefully, Vera tried to lose herself in the fictional world depicted on the pages in front of her.

 

After two large mugs, Vera looked up from her story. Her mother still seemed miles away from reaching a decision, but Orson’s enthusiasm wouldn’t cease to exist. She couldn’t blame the man - they were going to spend half their monthly budget on this joke. Rita always had her works framed, but she never hung them anywhere. They disappeared into storage bins up in the attic. Suddenly she heard a commotion in the street. Getting up, she looked out of the storefront windows. The Deputy nearly dropped her book onto the floor at the sight. There, standing in the middle of the street, was a very distraught Robert Westfall, surrounded by a group of strangers.

 

Vera immediately walked outside without hesitation, and approached the elderly gentleman. 

“Mister Westfall, do you remember me?” The man looked down at her in confusion. She continued in a gentle voice: “I’m Vera Bennett. I’m Bridget’s...friend.” At the mention of his daughter, he seemingly calmed down.

“Bridget and Julianne. I need Bridget and Julianne.” He repeated the statement multiple times. Oh, great, so the psychologist had immediately run to this other woman - not that she could blame her; Vera had been the one to walk away. Nodding, Vera confirmed: “I’ll call Bridget.”

“Who’s this?” her mother’s voice suddenly asked behind her. 

“Bridget’s father,” Vera replied. “I’m calling her to let her know.” Rita huffed.

“He looks confused. You can’t leave him here. We’ll take him with us, then you call her.” The younger Bennett woman nearly fell over in wonder. Her mother had a heart?

 

When they arrived home, much to Vera’s surprise, Rita guided Robert to sit down on the couch. She made him a cup of tea before urging her daughter to contact the blonde Westfall. Vera dialled Bridget’s number, but she didn’t pick up. Taking a deep breath, she texted her instead.

 

_ Vera Bennett: Bridget, Mum and I encountered your father in the street. We took him home with us, but he’s quite upset and confused, asking for you and Julianne. Could you please come pick him up? Vera. _

 

She took a moment to consider whether she would add an X in front of her name, but decided against it, pressing send. Within a minute, her phone rang, Bridget’s name gracing the screen. Vera immediately pressed ‘answer’.

“Vera Bennett.”

“Vera, oh, thank God!” The desperation in Bridget’s voice was nearly palpable. She sounded extremely worried, her voice raspy and breaking up. “He’s really with you?” Vera nodded, before realising the blonde wouldn’t be able to see her through the phone.

“Yes,” she responded, “would you like to speak with him?”

“No,” was the immediate answer. “I’ll just come over now. We’ve been looking for him since yesterday evening.”

 

It took Bridget mere minutes to arrive at the Bennett residence, flanked by a woman who was dressed in a nurse’s uniform. After Vera let her in, she instantly ran over to her father on the sofa, flinging her arms around his neck. 

“We were so worried, Dad!” Her body shook with emotion. Vera stood awkwardly in the door opening, while Rita watched the spectacle from her designated armchair. 

“Why aren’t you in school?” Robert asked in return. “Are you sick?” With a gentle sigh and a smile, the blonde psychologist responded: “I had the day off today, Dad.” Robert seemed to accept that response, though it only confused Vera more. The woman in the nurse’s uniform approached the father and daughter, softly telling them: “I’ll take you home now, Mister Westfall.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, peace and quiet had returned to the small house, just like it always did, with one exception: Vera was sitting on her bed, her feet dangling a few centimetres from the ground, with Bridget sitting beside her, crying silent tears. This might be the only shot Vera had at getting even an ounce of the truth. She took a deep breath.

“Bridget?”

Misty blue eyes looked into hers. Vera touched the golden band gracing the blonde's right ring finger.

“Who is Julianne?”


	8. Chapter 8

Bridget’s breath caught in her throat. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding Porsche. 

“Please,” Vera begged, “just tell me. It can’t be that bad, can it?” She gently touched Bridget’s knee.

“I...can't...” The blonde’s voice croaked with emotion. Vera could only offer her silence as a response. Apparently, Bridget still didn’t have enough faith in her to entrust her with whatever was so shocking that she hid it in the bottom of her jewellery box and kept it locked away in the deepest compartment of her soul. The blonde covered her face with her hands. “I can’t tell you,” she managed to whisper, “but I can show you.” Vera raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“What in the world are you insinuating?” Bridget sighed.

“Just, meet me at Melbourne General Cemetery tonight at eight.” With that, the psychologist got up and quickly walked out of the room. Vera could just hear her tell her mother: “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Bennett.” 

 

That night, Vera walked up to the front entrance of the large 110-acre cemetery, where Bridget was already waiting. The blonde’s thin form was covered by a black dress that reached her knees, and her footwear was uncharacteristically flat. Vera herself had chosen dark jeans and a cream-coloured T-shirt. 

“Hi,” she offered, waving awkwardly at the psychologist. 

“Hey,” Bridget responded, her voice soft. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, though I’m not really sure why we’re here,” Vera admitted truthfully. Bridget nodded.

“Please, come with me. I promise it will make sense.” Nodding, the brunette walked over to the blonde, who led her onto Entrance Avenue. They walked past what felt like hundreds of gravestones, marking the lives of people of many different faiths. After a few minutes of walking, they reached a mausoleum. Bridget continued straight on, reaching what seemed to be Roman Catholic graves only, judging from the symbolism on the headstones. Suddenly, they came to a halt in front of a modest grave, decorated with a single orchid.

 

_ Beloved mother and wife Julianne Elizabeth Westfall-Davis _ __   
_ June 28th 1948 - May 3rd 1986 _ __   
_ The Lord is near to all who call on Him  
_ __ Psalm 145:18

 

“She was so young,” Vera whispered. Bridget was kneeling by the dark marble, letting her fingertips glide across the smooth stone. She nodded.

“This, is Julianne. Julie. Mum. She was thirty-seven.”

“What happened?” Sighing, the blonde replied: “Car crash.”

“I’m so sorry, Bridget, for everything,” Vera responded. She felt awful. 

“Dad’s confused. That’s why he keeps asking for her.” By now, the psychologist had slumped against the headstone, wrapping her arms around her knees. Vera took a deep breath and knelt down in front of her and covered her small, trembling hands with her own. 

“Forgive me?” she whispered. Confused cerulean looked back at her, and Bridget replied, gently: “Forgive you? Forgive me!” Staring at one another, Vera burst into soft giggles, and the other woman followed suit. 

 

“What was she like?” Vera asked, sitting in the grass next to Bridget. The blonde still had one hand on the marble.

“According to everyone who knew her, I’m a carbon copy of her, except her eyes were green and her hair was a couple of shades darker. She was so gentle, Vera.” She sighed, letting the memories overtake her. The Deputy smiled, and added: “Just like her daughter, hey?”

 

They sat by Julianne’s grave for nearly half an hour. When they reached the main entrance again, Bridget faced Vera, and the brunette stepped closer to her, pulling her into a light embrace. Soft lips brushed against a second pair, and eyes fluttered closed. Suddenly, Bridget broke the kiss, and asked: “Come home with me?”


	9. Chapter 9

Vera hadn’t visited Bridget at her house for quite some time, but the serene atmosphere still felt like home. The entire place breathed the psychologist, and she could still smell a hint of sandalwood in every room. She was sitting on the sofa, waiting while the other woman finished pouring them coffee - though, what Bridget called coffee, could easily also be called coffee-flavoured sugar water. 

“You’re sure you want it black?” Bridget asked, smirking as she threateningly held a sugar cube half an inch above the steaming cup reserved for Vera. The brunette jumped up from where she was sitting and squealed: “Don’t you dare!” Chuckling, Bridget dumped it in her own mug instead.

“You have an awful taste in beverages,” Vera told the blonde.

“Good thing I have a better taste in women, huh?” Bridget replied, sitting down next to Vera and gently pulling her towards her. Vera let her head rest against Bridget’s while they slowly sipped their coffees. Sighing softly, she thought of everything that had happened in her life over the past few months. Everyone had found out Adam wasn’t real, and they had all laughed. Everyone, except for Bridget. In fact, she suddenly realised that Bridget hadn’t ever made fun of her, or of anyone else for that matter. She had even managed to somewhat get along with her mother, and Vera was seriously considering calling the Vatican about that. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bridget asked, her voice gentle and warm. Without thinking, Vera responded: “That I think I might be in love with you.” The blonde nearly dropped her mug to the floor. Vera inwardly cursed, and immediately apologised silently for the choice words. She really shouldn’t have said that. She really, really, should have just shut up. How could she have…

“I think I feel the same way,” Bridget whispered softly.

“Really?” 

“Really.”

 

_ ~ Fin. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This has been quite an enjoyable ship to write, and I think I'll be revisiting this ship again in the not-too-distant future. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> (I promise I'm also working on my other fics!)
> 
> This is a bit of a different pairing, but there's something about Vera/Bridget that appeals to me.


End file.
